A Campanologist's Tale
by CavvieLover
Summary: When a series of murders occurs in London involving the nursery rhyme "Oranges and Lemons" - It will push new and old relationships and new awakenings for John. Sherlock has returned - about six months ago, Lestrade does not trust him and a new pathologist is causing some interesting revelations. John/OC Undertones of John/Sherlock


Prologue

Jane stood there observing her prey; a young girl of seventeen known for being a whore in the local area – it was a cold, gloomy night. The youngster was lying on the table, Jane could smell the fear and it aroused her deeply. She then walked over to the table where there were various instruments available to her, she then picked up the scalpel and returned to the victim and begun to cut into her sweet, tender flesh. The girl tried to scream but the ball gag muffled out the noise.

"Shh...Sweet child of mine." Jane spoke softly before whispering a lament in her ear. "Oranges and Lemons – said the bells of St Clements. Here comes a candle to light you to bed,  
And here comes a chopper to chop off your head."

Then Jane decapititated her victim by using the surgical equipment needed, firstly she dragged the knife across the young girl's neck pooling the blood into a bucket before retrieving her trusting katana – the handle beautifully created she then sliced down the anatomy of neck like a precise surgeon; you could hear the tissues being ripped from tendons and bone fissures. Jane took a step back just as Natalia Clemens head fell to the floor – fear apparent in her eyes, Jane smile graciously before commencing the clean up process and preservation of the nectar of blasphemous blood.

Her next victim chosen – she needed the appropriate time and place. No-one knew what Jane got up to after hours. Jane returned to the house and got ready for her night shift.

John Watson stood there in the freezing cold waiting for a cab after yet another crappy date – Sherlock was always right about the future prospects when it came to relationships. It was snowy and wet – yet in was April. His phone buzzed; Murder at 144 Fulham Road – SH

John smiled warmly at the text before texting a quick reply and flagging a taxi down to head towards the crime scene. He sat in the cab and rubbed his hands together to warm them and thought about the future of the problem with Moriarty - ever since Sherlock "fell" there was still a small risk of Moriarty's men coming out of the woodwork. John shuddered and swallowed hard. The cab came to the roadblock and John paid before wrapping himself deeper in his coat and heading to the crime scene. John noticed the familiar figure of Lestrade – his deepest friend during Sherlock's hiatus.

"Greg..what have we got then?" John nodded curtly.

Lestrade pulled his coat tightly; "Murder victim of a Miss Clemens – decapitation and exsanguinations. Looks like body has been been moved. Sherlock is doing his thing – go on ahead. It's not pretty."

"Thanks for the warning.." John spoke before heading into the cacophony of the murder scene where Sherlock was in full argument with Anderson, that's when a feminine voice came out of nowhere.

"Anderson, Holmes. You are both grown up men. I know you do not have the best working relationship but this..." waving her hand. "Is a crime scene and no disrespect Anderson I have full authority here." She stood upright and turned to nod to John and gave him an examining eye. "John.. do you mind taking a look at the body? A medical opinion would be grand."

John remembered the first time he met Doctor Mackenzie Bailey – it was a year after Sherlock's demise and John was assisting in some ad-hoc police work with Lestrade at Belize Norton, three soldiers had been mutilated and killed just three months of returning from their fourth tours. Bailey was the lead pathologist on the case – they both got on like a house on fire. She then subjected herself as the new Home Office Pathologist for the Metropolitan Police Service.

"Yes, sure Mac." John strode across to her, "I'm fine – just another date cancelled. Sherlock Bloody Holmes."

Mackenzie Bailey was 5ft 8inches, short chestnut hair, glasses, athletic figure and a small scar on her left cheek. Today she wore a lime green blouse and black trousers – always ready for action and did not mind getting mucky. She went through the particulars of the case to John before nodding to her removal team. "Bart's please.. I will conduct PM tomorrow. I need to sleep and get some proper food in me." She said softly before walking towards the door and removing her forensic suit, she turned to John then to Sherlock who was looming.

In his baritone voice he spoke to her; "Exsanguination and post-mortem decapitation. Looks very clinical, almost surgical. No puncture marks, just oedema around the gums so test for chloroform and other anaesthetics." He then walked off, coat-tails flapping. "Come John."

Mackenzie stood there shaking her head; she would never know what made Sherlock so inert to the feelings and depth of crime. "I do know my job." She shouted towards him before sighing. "Tea?"

"Sure, why not?" John nodded and smiled. "You cope very well with him."

"It's not easy John, but we know that he solves the cases...I have a funny feeling this may not be the only one of this crime – will get Greg to check out CrimInt for missing persons." She rambled, walking they head off to a greasy spoon. Not noticing the shadow besides the crime scene.

Jane smiled and chuckled..her next victim will be ready soon.


End file.
